Syllables
by Lucille Mabel
Summary: Literati. Both are encased in their secret club house.  They are the only members and it’s understood that anything spoken here is to be kept between them. OneShot.


**A/N: **Another short one-shot with no purpose. Set toward the end of Season Three. Literati implied. Just a note that I am still working on In Society; I'm just trying to make it the best that I can.

**SYLLABLES**

She enters his section of the room; all of his stuff is still there. She _should _have thought that all of his possession still being there could have been a sign. That he could still come back. It has only been a week after all. But if she had learned anything in her life it was to not expect things; that way she could never be disappointed.

She's immediately drawn to his bed. The mattress is wrapped neatly in the brown comforter. It's not something she's used to. Usually the blankets would be thrown haphazardly toward the end of the thing; as if _he_ had just woken up and thrown them forward. But not today; Luke must have made the bed and she almost whimpers at the thought of his things not being exactly as he left them.

Pacing herself, she climbs on top of the mattress, planting her face into one of his pillows. She lets its aroma in as she smiles slightly; it still smells like him and she misses his scent. _She misses him_.

---

The next thing she knows, he's standing near the headboard, hovering over her. She must have dozed off. Her eyes squint as they make out his features and widen as she realizes it's him. His blanket is now over her body but she doesn't remember moving it there.

"What are you doing here?" She asks in a whisper when all she really wants to do is scream at him for leaving.

"This is my bed." He answers casually, as if he didn't leave, as if he still slept here every night.

"No." She covers her head with one of his pillows. His scent _still_ lingering. "No. No. No. No. No." She's in denial and she has the right to be as she repeats the single-syllable word. Her voice gets louder with every intake of breath.

He remains calm. "Rory…" He tries to soothe her, removing his pillow from her now tear-stained face. She grabs it back from him and this time hugs it tightly. Her tear-brimmed eyes stare at him with intensity. He doesn't even budge.

Her heart is beating faster and she wants to confront him. She wants to tell him that he's a jerk and that she hates him and just wants him to go away. He left so he should just stay gone. He left. He left. He left. Two-syllables are now attacking her thoughts in a never-ending mantra. "Your pillow smells like you." Again, she avoids the subject. She always avoids the subject.

"Is it a good thing?"

His reply almost makes her want to roll her eyes. But she can't because she figures it would be adorable if she wasn't mad at him for something…she can't quite remember what it is at the moment. She nods.

She watches as the corners of his mouth twist into a smirk. She wants to slap him but she won't. He doesn't deserve to find pleasure out of her pain. Instead she scoots over to the other side of his bed. She lays the pillow down on the empty section of the mattress she has just vacated and lifts the top of the blanket with an outstretched arm. "Come here." Her voice is back to a raspy whisper.

He looks at her strangely before obliging. Not even bothering to take off his shoes, he lays down. Their faces are less than an inch apart. She lifts the blanket over both of their heads.

Both are encased in their secret club house. They are the only members and it's understood that anything spoken here is to be kept between them.

He doesn't dare speak. He knows well enough that she's in control and she will be the first to say something. He hasn't been this close to her since Kyle's party and he'd hate it if today would go just as badly as that day. It seems so long ago.

She exhales a deep breath and he feels its warmth dance over his features. "You left." It's the first time she's said it and it's like a secret they've both been keeping. In reality everyone else knows too but they're really the only two that matter.

He closes his eyes and grabs one of her hands with both of his. His eyes reopen and he brings her hand toward his lips. Her eyes are wide and as blue as ever as he places a single kiss on her palm.

"It smells like you too, you know."

"Is it a good thing?"

He nods. "Spending a lot of time here?"

She nods.

"I'm sorry."

She tries to smile but it comes out weak. "You're here now."

He turns his head as if ashamed.

"You're not staying…"

"I can't."

A single tear falls down her freckled cheek. He tries to wipe it away for her but she beats him to it. After a moment, she swallows. "I know."

He begins to fade away…

---

She wakes up and she's lying on top of his bed. The blankets are still nestled underneath her.

Her phone vibrates in her jean pocket and she groggily reaches to answer it. "Hello?" Nobody replies. "Hello? Hello? Hello?" She tries again but all she hears are scattered intakes of breath. A moment later she hears the dial tone.

---

**REVIEW?**


End file.
